


The Way He Feels

by rdm_ation



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Depression, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-09
Updated: 2012-03-09
Packaged: 2017-11-01 16:24:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rdm_ation/pseuds/rdm_ation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt felt stuck. He’d discovered something about Blaine that he couldn’t understand. And really, he never wanted to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way He Feels

**Author's Note:**

> A warning to start with: this fic contains descriptions of self-harm and depression, please tread carefully if either of these triggers you.
> 
> This fic was both insanely difficult to write, and really cathartic. I ended up in tears more than once. It was for [this prompt](http://glee-angst-meme.livejournal.com/23877.html?thread=13916485#t13916485) on the angst meme, and I wrote a tiny drabble, but then it took a hold of my brain and it turned into this. Thanks to Tina for her efforts in beta-ing this, and it was hard to see criticism of it but I think it’s turned out much, much better. I also have to say thank you to Marian for her initial input. <3 The song that the prompt came from is [here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=751x-Iyargg&ob=av2n), and the warnings apply to the song and video as well.

Kurt froze.   
  
"Blaine?" he said, removing his hand from under Blaine’s shirt and letting it rest on Blaine's arm. "Please talk to me."   
  
Blaine looked utterly terrified. His eyes were darting around the room as if searching for an escape route, looking anywhere but at Kurt.   
  
"Please."’ Kurt’s voice was small as he grabbed Blaine’s hands.   
  
"I can’t." Blaine’s voice was barely a whisper. "I- I have to go."   
  
Kurt didn’t know what else to do except let him. He held Blaine's hands tight for one more minute, and then walked him out.   
  
"I know you don’t feel like you can tell me, but I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere, okay?"   
  
\--   
  
The feel of the clean, straight scars haunted Kurt. He made it back up to his room and collapsed onto his bed.   
  
He couldn’t understand. He didn’t understand how his beautiful, amazing, wonderful boyfriend could do that.   
  
He let his head drop into his hands. What could he do?   
  
He loved Blaine so much that this, this was actually physically painful.   
  
_Let me help. I love you so much, let me help you._   
  
He toyed with the idea of sending Blaine a text saying just that, but decided it was too much.   
  
He sent  _I love you_ , instead.   
  
Kurt spent the rest of the night trying to remember how to breathe.   
  
\--   
  
Over the weeks following Kurt’s discovery, he tried to forget what he’d seen, what he’d felt. He lied to himself, telling himself he wasn’t worried, that surely Blaine would tell him if things had gotten that bad. That was what they did: they talked.   
  
He ignored the voice in his head that said  _but he didn’t tell you._   
  
After one day of total silence, Blaine messaged Kurt apologizing for his freak out and asking if Kurt wanted to come over to his place again.   
  
They both pretended everything was fine, even though everything was anything but fine.   
  
Gradually, Kurt did manage to put it to the back of his mind, at least when he was with Blaine. They relaxed around each other again and lost the awkwardness that had plagued them for weeks. Kurt still worried, still wanted to know what was going on inside his boyfriend’s head. He’d found some information on the internet and it was scaring him more than he wanted it to. He hoped that Blaine would come to him without further prompting.   
  
He didn’t.   
  
They were at Blaine’s house, and as usual when his parents weren’t home they had ended up on his bed, kissing and talking. After a while, they talked less and kissed more; Kurt pressed Blaine down and back against the pillows with one hand at his shoulder. Blaine’s hands started wandering from where they’d been cupping Kurt’s neck, one making its way under the waistband of Kurt’s jeans. Kurt shivered at the feeling of Blaine’s calloused hand on his ass, and pulled back to take his shirt off.   
  
It was Blaine’s turn to freeze. He just stared at Kurt, not meeting his eyes.   
  
Kurt quickly became self-conscious. "Blaine, it’s not like you haven’t seen me shirtless before," he teased. "Stop that and keep kissing me." For a while Blaine did just that, until suddenly, out of nowhere, he pulled back and started shaking. "Blaine?" Kurt’s voice was shaky, too. "What’s going on?"   
  
Blaine just shook his head, eyes wide and panicked. "Blaine, look at me." Kurt reached up to cup his cheek. "Breathe for me, okay? Just breathe. Breathe with me."   
  
Gradually, Blaine calmed down, his breathing coming easier and the shakes receding.   
  
"Sorry," he muttered.   
  
"Hey, no, don’t apologize. You’re okay, I’ve got you."   
  
Kurt moved so he was no longer straddling Blaine’s waist and sat down cross-legged in front of him. He was trying to give Blaine some space, physically as well as emotionally, but he wasn’t sure it was entirely effective. Blaine sat up, his breathing returning to normal.   
  
"Blaine? Can you tell me what that was about?" he asked when Blaine didn’t say a word, worry evident in his voice. "I don’t know what to do, here."   
  
"Kurt, I can’t. I just can’t." Blaine said, biting his lip and wrapping his arms around his torso. He looked down. "Please don’t make me."   
  
Kurt was horrified at how timid and small he sounded, like he was pleading for much more than silence. It ached. Kurt shuffled closer and placed his hand on Blaine’s knee. "I love you. I don’t know how to help you, until you tell me what’s going on, and even then I probably won’t know how to help except to remind you of this constantly, okay? I. Love. You."   
  
At this, Blaine looked up and met Kurt’s steady gaze.   
  
"Thank you," he whispered. "I love you too."   
  
Gradually, the tension seemed to melt out of Blaine. He uncurled his arms, and laid his hand over Kurt’s where it was still resting on his knee. Once he was sure Blaine wasn’t going to flinch away, Kurt kneeled up and kissed him on the cheek. He got up off the bed and headed purposefully over to Blaine’s DVD stand.   
  
"So, what movie are we watching?" Kurt asked, his voice overly bright. " _Love, Actually_ ?"   
  
Blaine’s tiny, grateful smile at the change in topic and demeanour was possibly the most heartbreaking thing Kurt had ever seen. He nodded.   
  
"Great." Kurt said, leaning back against the pillows and stretching his legs out in front of his. He set up Blaine’s laptop on his lap and patted the bed beside him. "Now come sit here."   
  
Blaine crawled up to sit next to Kurt, managing a tiny smile. Kurt hit play, and smiled himself when Blaine settled in against his shoulder. Soon enough, Blaine started idly tracing patterns on Kurt’s leg.   
  
Kurt spent most of the movie watching him and wondering what he could do.   
  
\--   
  
Things went back to normal. Or at least, their new normal. They ignored it, and Kurt vowed to find a way to get through to Blaine that he wasn’t going to judge, he just wanted to know.   
  
Instead, Blaine surprised him.   
  
He checked his email one last time, late on a Wednesday night. He was confused when he saw the new message from Blaine Anderson, as they rarely emailed each other – they preferred to use Skype when they were online. It made him a little uneasy.   
  
He opened the email, and then he was transfixed, feeling slightly ill, from the very beginning.   
  
  
_Kurt,  
  
I’ve started this email at least 10 times now, but I keep getting stuck after a sentence. I don’t know how to explain this, I’ve never told anyone, and, well, you’ve seen first-hand the panic attacks that happen when I feel trapped.  
  
Talking about it makes it real. We both know that I bury things I don’t want to be real. This time I’m just going to type and hope this makes sense.  
  
I cut. Present tense. (That took me 10 minutes to write, for the record.)  
  
The scars you felt were the old ones. There are more down my legs. I never, ever touch my arms because it would be too obvious.  
  
It started after Sadie Hawkins. I was bundled off to Dalton, which was my savior in a lot of ways. I was out, I had the Warblers, I had friends, I was popular, but even then no one was too close.  
  
The first time, it was almost an accident. I found out I’d gotten into the Warblers and I was overjoyed. I couldn’t wait to get home and tell my parents that Dalton was better, Dalton was perfect, I could do everything, and I could _ be _something there. Mom was pleased and was genuine if sparing with her praise. Dad, well, Dad just asked me whether I was sure attracting so much attention was a good move. I still wasn’t good enough.  
  
I ran upstairs, still clutching the glass of water I’d grabbed from the kitchen. All the rage I had pent up throughout the transfer exploded out of me, and I threw it against my wall. It shattered, and I cut my hand on one of the pieces. All I felt was release.  
  
I kept the pieces, promising myself I wouldn’t actually do anything.  
  
That lasted until the next time he looked at me like that. And the next. And the next.  
  
I don’t expect you to understand. It’s stupid. I know it’s stupid, but I can’t stop.  
  
I’m sorry I’m such a fuck-up._   
  
  
  
Kurt stared at his screen and was surprised to feel that his cheeks were wet when he rested his face in his hands – he hadn’t noticed he’d started crying.   
  
It was one thing to suspect that those scars were from cutting, it was another to have the truth right in front of him.   
  
He hit reply, but could only stare at his blank screen.   
  
He grabbed his phone and selected Blaine’s number, but couldn’t bring himself to hit call.   
  
He found his car keys and gripped them so tightly he felt them cutting into his hand. As soon as he realized what he was doing he dropped them like they were red hot. Besides, his dad would ground him for weeks if he went out at this time on a school night. He could hardly explain why he was so desperate to get to Blaine.   
  
He shook himself mentally.  _Get a grip, Blaine needs you. You need to be the strong one here._   
  
Hands shaking, he picked up his phone and hit call before he could lose his nerve.   
  
"Hi." Blaine’s voice sounded tiny on the phone.   
  
“Blaine?” Kurt was impressed that his voice didn’t shake. "I got your email. I won’t say I understand, because I can’t, but you are not a fuck-up."   
  
Kurt heard Blaine dissolve into shaky sobs. "I don’t deserve you," he choked out.   
  
"Blaine, please listen to me. You are not. I don’t care what your Dad says, or thinks, or what you’ve convinced yourself of. You are wonderful, my best friend, my boyfriend, and I will do anything possible to help you, okay?"   
  
"Kurt, I have to go. I can’t do this. Come over tomorrow?"   
  
"Of course. I’ll see you then. I love you."   
  
"Love you too." Kurt could barely hear Blaine’s voice through his sobs.   
  
Once he’d heard the click of Blaine hanging up, Kurt dropped his phone onto his bed and started pacing restlessly. He didn’t know what to do with this information. He’d read about self-harm before, but they’d all been numbers on a page. Statistics. Cold facts. This was Blaine. He couldn’t mesh the two ideas together at all – he would have thought he’d imagined everything, except the e-mail was still open on his laptop and he could remember the feeling of the scars on Blaine’s stomach all too clearly.   
  
He’d never felt so helpless before in his life.   
  
He gave up his pacing and threw himself on his bed, where the tears started again. It felt like hours until he fell asleep.   
  
\--   
  
The next month made Kurt want to tear his hair out. Blaine refused to acknowledge that there was a problem. Instead, he kept up the facade he presented for everyone else.   
  
More than he liked, Kurt was getting frustrated. He knew that he had to be patient, that there was nothing he could say that would force Blaine to talk. If he tried that, if he tried to make Blaine talk, Kurt would be just as bad as everyone else when it came to helping Blaine.   
  
Occasionally, Blaine would show up to Kurt’s house with red-rimmed eyes or would walk very tentatively, and the more Kurt thought about it, the more he convinced himself that he should have noticed something had been off for a while.   
  
Every time he caught himself thinking like this he scolded himself, knowing that none of it was his fault.   
  
He just felt so stuck.   
  
Eventually, he thought back to how Blaine had told him in the first place and felt like kicking himself for not having thought of it earlier. He opened his email and started to type.   
  
  
  
_Blaine,  
  
I’m sorry if I’ve pushed too hard recently. I just want you to be okay, and I don’t know how to help you make that happen.  
  
I want to understand, and I can’t do that unless you talk to me. I just can’t.  
  
So please. Talk to me?  
  
I love you.  
  
Kurt_   
  
  
  
For the first time in a while Kurt fell asleep without worrying, confident he’d finally done something to help Blaine.   
  
When Blaine didn’t respond the next day, Kurt thought he just hadn’t seen it.   
  
When Blaine didn’t respond the day after that, Kurt thought he just needed some time to process it.   
  
When Blaine didn’t respond the day after that, Kurt thought he wasn’t going to get a response. He’d just resigned himself to that when Blaine e-mailed him back.   
  
  
  
_Sometimes it feels like my brain is tearing itself in two. I want help, I know I need it, but I talk myself out of it every time. I’m scared. I don’t want anyone to know how messed up I am. You finding out made me want to hide away, even from you. What kind of boyfriend does that make me?  
  
I just want to be happy. Why can’t I just be happy, Kurt? What’s wrong with me?_   
  
\--   
  
Kurt wished he could be enough.   
  
\--   
  
They fell into another routine. Their day-to-day life went on as it ever had, spending as much time together as they could, and talking constantly about everything and nothing. It was easy again. At the same time, there was an almost constant stream of e-mails from Blaine to Kurt and back again, in which Blaine told him tiny things about how he was feeling, really. It became an unspoken rule between them that they only ever used e-mails for talk of this nature, not for anything trivial.   
  
Some days, Kurt would wake up to ten e-mails waiting for him. Sometimes they were long, rambling, panicking. Sometimes Blaine would tell him what had set him off, be it his Dad, his grades, or a song. Sometimes they were just simple statements.   
  
_I hate this.  
  
Make it stop.  
  
Thank you._   
  
Kurt never really knew if he was helping or not.   
  
\--   
  
They didn’t cross the line between their e-mails and conversation in person until the day Kurt came home to an e-mail saying simply,  _I’m stopping. Today. Please help me._   
  
Kurt texted Blaine immediately. An hour later, he was sitting on Blaine’s bed, waiting for him to be ready to talk. Kurt was expecting a short, abrupt conversation, or a more specific request for help.   
  
“I want to show you,” is what Blaine said.   
  
Kurt blinked, a little stunned. "O-okay," he stuttered.   
  
Just like that, Blaine started to look nervous, and Kurt could see his resolve crumbling.   
  
"Come here," whispered Kurt, pulling Blaine closer to him on the bed where they’d been sitting across from each other. He leaned in and kissed him quickly, chastely, before settling alongside Blaine.   
  
"Are you sure?"   
  
Blaine nodded, closed his eyes, and then pulled his shirt off in one movement. Kurt guessed it was so he wouldn’t lose his nerve.   
  
Kurt stared, he couldn’t help it. There were so many clean, straight lines across Blaine’s lower torso.   
  
Kurt grabbed Blaine’s hand as he asked, "You okay?"   
  
Again, Blaine nodded. "I want to show you the rest. These... these have healed. The others..." He trailed off.   
  
It was Kurt’s turn to nod. "Okay. How do you want to?"   
  
"Could you close your eyes for a moment?" Blaine asked, hesitant.   
  
Kurt did, and waited.   
  
"You can open your eyes."   
  
Blaine had taken his jeans off, and was sitting next to Kurt in only his boxers with them pushed up slightly so Kurt could see the tops of his thighs.   
  
"Oh, Blaine," Kurt whispered. He could easily distinguish the new scars from the old, and there were more new ones than he wanted to see.   
  
Kurt reached out with one hand, unthinking, and then froze an inch from Blaine’s skin. "Can I?"   
  
Blaine shut his eyes tightly, and breathed out a  _yes_ .   
  
Kurt started slow, running his fingers lightly over the scars on Blaine’s stomach, the ones he’d felt that first time. Blaine flinched. “Is this still okay?” Kurt asked, concerned. He paused, and lifted his hand away from Blaine’s skin. Blaine nodded once, sharply, and Kurt trailed his fingers down over the others, being careful not to touch any of the ones that hadn’t closed over. Blaine shuddered, but didn’t jerk away again. Kurt pulled away, taking Blaine’s hands in his own and lacing their fingers together.   
  
They sat there, silent, for what seemed like an age.   
  
“Blaine, look at me.” Blaine complied, and Kurt continued. “You are beautiful. I still can’t believe you’re mine, you know that?” Blaine just shook his head, a disbelieving smile forming on his lips.   
  
“I’m serious. You are so strong, and I love you so much. I’ll do anything, what do you need from me?”   
  
"I don’t know. I want to stop, I need to stop, but it’s what makes the pain real," Blaine said.   
  
"Blaine, the pain is always real. You can do this."   
  
Blaine stared at his bed before responding. “I’d ask you to take... what I use away from me, but I panic and shake if I don’t have anything to use. And I’d probably find something else anyway.” His voice got smaller and smaller as he spoke.   
  
They both fell into silence again, thinking.   
  
Kurt suddenly got a little bolder. "I want you to call me."   
  
"What?" Blaine looked confused.   
  
"When you want to cut, when it gets too much, I want you to call me."   
  
“What if it’s late at night? Or-“   
  
“I don’t care,” Kurt cut him off. “Promise?”   
  
Blaine hesitated, but he nodded his assent. "I promise."   
  
Kurt honestly had no idea what he’d say or do when Blaine did call, and Kurt had no doubt he would, but Kurt figured he’d work that out as he went. With this vague plan in place, and his boyfriend stretched out mostly-naked in front of him, Kurt thought it was time to lighten the mood a little.   
  
He turned Blaine’s head with his hand and kissed him, drawing him in. Blaine laughed and swung his leg over to straddle Kurt’s legs. He broke away for a moment to say, "Of course you’d choose right now to want to make out."   
  
"What? My entirely hot boyfriend is wearing nothing but boxers, do you really expect me to resist?"   
  
Blaine snorted, but leant back down to kiss Kurt anyway.   
  
Privately, Kurt thought that this was the best distraction technique ever.   
  
\--   
  
Blaine kept his promise. Kurt tried not to show it, but he was shocked at the number of phone calls he received.   
  
Often, they wouldn’t even talk. They’d just breathe together through the phone. Occasionally Kurt would sing, or hum, depending on whether he was likely to wake the other members of his family up.   
  
Every so often, Kurt would have to calm a frantic Blaine after he’d slipped up and cut. Those calls were the ones that Kurt looked forward to least, not because he was disappointed that Blaine hadn’t been able to resist, but because of the self-loathing he heard in Blaine’s voice when he did. That in itself was almost too much for Kurt to take. He didn’t think he would ever reconcile his image of Blaine with the one Blaine saw. Quite frankly, Kurt never wanted to.   
  
\--   
  
The phone calls became yet another part of their routine. Kurt developed a sense for which calls were serious, and which weren’t. He’s not sure how, but he always seemed to know whether to be worried or not.   
  
It wasn’t until months had passed that he realized how much the calls had slowed. He mentioned this one afternoon, when they were once again sitting on Blaine’s bed. Kurt wasn’t naive enough to think that everything was fine, but for the first time in a long time he felt like it could be.   
  
All Blaine could say was  _thank you._


End file.
